Subsequent
by ofbrothersandteacakes
Summary: As great as hugs are, standing on a new knee injury for a while isn't always the brightest of ideas. Tag to 12x22.


They stand there quietly for a long time, Sam's wide arms wrapped tightly around his little family. There's something exhausting in knowing that after such a tough battle, they only have more to deal with in the form of the devil himself. But with his eyes closed, Dean's arm around him, and his mother tucked into his chest, Sam can pretend, at least for a moment, that they're at peace and there's nothing more they need to do.

At some point, their mom had begun to cry. He can feel the wet patch on his shirt, notices the occasional hiccup she lets out, and Dean's hand has moved to her hair, reassuring her silently. Sam can't believe they're still both here, still both okay, and he squeezes them a little closer, only for a second.

If they could have, Sam knew they all would have chosen to stay stood there. "Dean," Sam says instead, worry creeping into his voice as he feels his brother begin to tremble against him. Instinctively, Mary pulls away, just as Dean's leg gives way beneath him. Sam's brother's face is a grimace. It was stupid to keep him on his feet so long. "Dean," Sam repeats, though this time, his voice is exasperated more than anything. His hands were already there, keeping Dean upright. "You need to sit down," he tells him, helping him into the seat Mary had quickly dragged over.

"Don't need to tell me twice," Dean snorts, wincing deeply. His hand moved to his knee, hovering just above the fabric of his jeans. Sam can't help the slight quirk of his lips as he stands beside him. A few years ago, Dean probably would've fought tooth and nail to stay on his feet as long as possible, just to be a stubborn ass. "Couldn't miss out on a valuable family hug like that, could I?" he jokes, offering them a smile that tries pretty hard to not imitate a grimace.

"Do you need more painkillers?" Mary prods gently, arms folding across her chest as she watches him.

"I'm good, Mom," Dean assures her. "I need to rest it a bit, that's all."

Mary bites her lip and nods. She glances between the two of them and Sam smiles at her. "Go get some rest, Mom," he tells her. "I've got him."

For a second, it looks as if she's going to protest. Then she nods again, her own mouth turning into a smile, and turns on her heel. Both Sam and Dean listen to her footsteps fading, neither one looking at each other yet. "You better tell me every little detail about that fight," Dean says, and Sam finally looks at his brother again. Despite the exhaustion etched into his face, he's smirking.

"Like I'd want to miss anything out," Sam replies, his slight smile spreading into a soft grin. He leans against the table, letting the quiet wrap around them both. Dean shifts as if he's trying to get comfortable, nodding to himself at the same time. "I'm proud of you, y'know," Sam says, his voice low.

Dean turns his head and raises an eyebrow at him. " _You're_ proud of _me_?" he asks, astounded. "Sam, you're the one who just led a hunter army to rid the country of the British Men of Letters," he reminds him unnecessarily.

"No, I know, but you knew not to put yourself in the line of fire," Sam says. "I'm glad and proud because even a couple of years ago, there's no way you would've let me go do something like that, even if you'd lost your entire _leg_."

Again, Dean snorts. This time, when he smiles, there's barely even a wince in it. "True," he admits.

They've both changed a lot. Sam isn't even sure exactly when it happened.

There's a lot more that ought to be said. Dean and Mom need to know about Lucifer walking the Earth, but they deserve one night's rest. They need to talk about Dean's knee, too, and what the reality might be if Castiel can't – or won't – heal it, but there's always the chance he will as well. That problem is best left to be handled by their future selves, if it needs to be.

"Come on," Dean says, gesturing for Sam to head over his way. "I want to get some sleep." Rolling his eyes fondly, Sam does as he's told and moves to help Dean up.

It's a slow walk to Dean's room. The leg definitely needs a good rest. "You'll be okay, yeah?" Sam asks after Dean is seated on his memory foam mattress.

"Of course I will," Dean replies, and it sounds like a promise.

The brothers smile at each other as Sam pauses in the doorway. "Night, jerk," he says.

Dean didn't miss a beat. "Night, bitch."

The words alone make Sam feel safe and at home.


End file.
